


Illness

by Lizlow



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizlow/pseuds/Lizlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're the best of friends, but Kenya always hid something from Shiraishi. It was something he never could bring himself to tell him. Something, that could change everything. And it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt Illness, this involves more angst and friendship than anything,

Lean back, Shiraishi Kuranosuke decided to give himself a moment of rest. Playing the energetic first year teammate, Tooyama Kintarou, was tiring, but it pleased Shiraishi knowing that there would be a strong foundation for the team in Tooyama and Zaizen Hikaru.

He simplt couldn’t let his focus up though; it was the duty of a captain to stay strong, no matter what. He would show all the second years and first years what it meant to be a team player, what had kept the Shitenhouji Tennis team together after the previous captain just “didn’t feel like it” anymore and quit.

“Kin-chan, what are you doing?” Shiraishi asked, breaking his thoughts as he watched Tooyama run off toward the other side of the courts. Quickly sizing the small crowd, however, Shiraishi had his idea.

“Koharu and Yuuji are doing something!”

Another comedy act. Shiraishi really did feel at home with his team. He chuckled, turning his attention to Zaizen, as it was his turn to play a match with him. Zaizen’s phone camera clicked a few times, and afterwards, Shiraishi patted him on the shoulder, “Used to it yet?”

“…Aren’t we supposed to still be doing something? Something with these racquets of ours?”

“Yes, yes. Just grab a ball. We’ll start in a moment. Your serve.”

“…All right. And, senpai? Doesn’t it seem a little quieter?”

Shiraishi blinked, staying silent for a moment. Somehow, it did. Like, there was something missing from the air.

“Kenya! Kenya! Let’s race!”

“Of course..Kin-chan!”

Shiraishi turned his attention over to Oshitari Kenya, who was nodding, wiping sweat from his brow. He let out a cough, and Shiraishi swore he saw a bit of red left over on his hand. Kenya quickly used his towel to hide this though.

Odd.

Kenya stared back, grinning at Shiraishi, giving a thumbs up as Tooyama took off. He dashed forward afterwards, fast, catching up easily. But, Shiraishi could see it. He was still fast, but this speed seemed… forced, slower.

Shiraishi froze.

Kenya’s chest seemed to rise and fall in shorter distance; every breath he took seemed short. Surely, though, if anything was actually wrong, wouldn’t his parents have caught it? Or at least his younger brother? Or… Would Kenya really want to rush ahead so quickly, that his own health would be disregarded.

“Kenya-kun,” Shiraishi said, approaching as Zaizen sighed, bouncing the ball, expecting his captain to actually get to the other side of the court. “Is something wrong?”

“Heh, no way..!” Kenya responded, wiping the excessively abnormal amount of sweat from his brow and coughing into his towel. “This speedstar is perfectly fine!” His words were quick, his face pale.

He took a moment to look into his towel, tossing it aside and putting on an air of confidence, “Don’t ya worry, Shiraishi!”

Watching the towel, Shiraishi’s worries were confirmed: It wasn’t okay. The red on the towel, the amount of it. Everything passed through his head, every worry, every scenario.

“Kenya-kun, your towel speaks otherwise.”

“Faster than me that you can speak to towels?” Kenya laughed, but it lacked the normal, full sounds it usually rang with. “Still not quite Yuuji and Koharu on the comedy side, you know.”

He tried to dash off to grab his racquet and play a match with Koishikawa, but kneeled over coughing in a fit instead.

“Go home, Kenya-kun.”

“Gotta finish this practice first. Then we can grab takoyaki from that place we like on the way home. Kin-chan can come too!”

One more step with speed and he collapsed with a thud.

“…!” Everyone had gasped, and Shiraishi hurried over, “Someone, call an ambulance,” he ordered. He looked down careful, getting his unconscious friend on his back and elevating him. With breathing issues, lying on the back was an awful idea, and that was the first thing Shiraishi knew he could do otherwise. Why Kenya hadn’t just gone home earlier, was beyond him.

It wasn’t to say that anyone could be sure of who called the ambulance, but within a short amount of time, the ambulance was there to whisk Kenya away to the hospital.

Health, oh it was a serious thing to Shiraishi. In clear, he always wanted to make sure stayed ready for their matches. He always made sure to have lots of water bottles on hand, or at least made sure their coach, did so.

But, it was obvious that Kenya had been sick for much longer than he had thought.

It couldn’t have been contagious, but the doctors didn’t want to take any chances. On with a mask, that was Shiraishi’s ride in the ambulance, sitting worriedly beside Kenya. He had to wonder, when had this actually hit Kenya? Last year, things were fine… they seemed like it, at least, with Kenya being able to beat Shiraishi out in the Complete Swimsuit Eating Contest, and even during the training at U-17.

Then again, Shiraishi never had been able to be near Kenya all the time during camp to be sure of that.

However, in thinking about it as he quickly followed the medical crew out of the truck and into the hospital, perhaps there were hints. His mind flashed to nationals, where he did heave in more exhaustion than usual after a match, and was just slightly quicker than expected to swap places with Chitose. Even in a condition that was just slightly better than Kenya’s current state, a match against Tezuka would have likely been so much more tolling.

Maybe camp had benefitted Kenya’s skill, but at what cost?

“This is as far as we can let you go, Shiraishi-san,” a nurse said. “Please wait in the waiting room.”

Checks on Kenya, of course. Shiraishi nodded, “Of course. Thank you. Would you mind keeping me updated though, please?”

“Certainly.”

The nurse turned around, hurrying off to her post, leaving Shiraishi to sit in the waiting room, trying to think over what could have been wrong – what had caused Kenya to be that sick, where he couldn’t run like his usual self, where he coughed up blood, where he gave grins so weak.

It was like someone had torn the rest of the pages of Kenya’s book of life away, split water on them, blurred them, shredded them, so that they were no longer usable. Kenya  _couldn’t_  have an expiration date so soon, but the paramedics’ words in the ambulance truck all were recalled upon as if he heard them underwater.

They had asked for Kenya’s name. Shiraishi had answered,  _“Kenya… Oshitari Kenya-kun.”_

They had asked for how Shiraishi was related to Kenya. And Shiraishi answered,  _“…Best friend…”_

Everything was dazed past that. His head had pounded, and that continued still. His heart felt heavy. As one of the most important people in Shiraishi’s life, the mere thought of losing him could cause all this, but the fact that it felt so close, so possible, so likely, everything intensified.

He adjusted his bandages, looking for a moment at the bright gold underneath. Just after coach Watanabe Osamu had given Shiraishi that gold gauntlet, Kenya had thrown a bunch of questions Shiraishi’s way. It was hard to forget it. All the laughter, all the poking fun, really, the two had become fast friends, and stayed that way.

His phone went off. Grey-brown eyes scanned over the caller ID.

“Hello? Yukari, tell our parents that I won’t be home for a while.”

_“Ku-chan? Is everything all right? We got a call from your teammates saying that you went to the hospital! Mom’s worried sick, you know!”_

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Shiraishi confirmed, “it’s Kenya-kun that’s needs to be here.”

“ _…Oh! Well, I’ll tell Mom then. Next time, call us yourself, Ku-chan.”_

The phone call ended with an exchange of ‘call you laters’ but Shiraishi wouldn’t be sure if he could feel up to it then. His phone’s clock read 20:00 o’clock. It was hitting the nighttime hours. Not his usual sleeping time, but…

He closed his eyes, and all the old memories of the past three years flashed before his eyes; he couldn’t hear anything but the voices in these memories. Disbelief, ignore everyone, let these get him through everything. There was no way he was going home. Not yet. Not until he knew that Kenya would be okay.

Perhaps it would do good to get some rest.

This time had already been less than perfect.

That word, that  _concept_  of perfection, soon filled his mind. It slipped through his grasp. He, who worked his best to keep his team laughing and relatively happy, found himself chasing to hold on to it. He could see Kenya, almost, running and bolting, just as happy and healthy as Shiraishi knew him to be. He dashed, soon running atop the lake before them.

Kenya waved backwards and Shiraishi waved as well, a smile brought to his face. He then tried to speak, but no words came out. His throat hurt as he reached out, his hand closing as Kenya mouthed something and disappeared downwards, into the water.

That concept of perfection… how he and Kenya had their friendship… was as close to perfection as anything could truly be. Attaining true perfection, that was silly! He and Kenya had had many a laughter session on just that thought. 

This… This thing that Kenya had happening to him… it was destroying it. 

This… This illness that Kenya had… it was taking it all away.

Shiraishi opened his eyes, quickly, his heart drumming. 

Just a dream… no.

…Just a nightmare.

There was a slight commotion around him, and he sleepily gave focus to a nurse who was about to speak to him. She did look somewhat familiar, Shiraishi thought.

“…Kuranosuke-kun, Kenya is on breathing assistance, but he is still breathing. If you’d like, you may see him.”

“Yes, please,” Shiraishi answered her question. She addressed him and Kenya with familiar terms… she  _was_ familiar.

“All right. Follow me then.”

Shaking, standing, Shiraishi swore that the hospital would have actually just sent him home and told him to come back in the morning. But, instead, he got to actually go forward. …Could it be that something was actually wrong? That the world, the imperfectly-perfect world he thought Kenya and himself had built around them, was actually shattering? It couldn’t be.

But… none of that mattered more than actually seeing Kenya.

He yawned, groggily following the nurse to the room that had a sighed reading “ _Oshitari Kenya-san”_ next to it. She opened the door, and Shiraishi’s sleepy gaze met the soft, concerned eyes of Kenya’s father, as well as his own father.

The “just in case” clause was instigated once more, so Shiraishi put the small, mouth-covering mask on and took a seat next to Kenya’s bed. With an oxygen mask on, Kenya looked sicker than when leaving the courts. Maybe even paler. Shiraishi could only hope it was his imagination.

Kenya’s eyes were closed, his chest, even with the help of the extra oxygen, wasn’t rising in full. His head was slightly elevated, and he coughed in his sleep. Shiraishi slipped his hand over Kenya’s. He would be there for his closest friend.

Seconds felt like hours as he turned his attention from the nurse to Kenya’s father, then to his own.

It was only then that he recognized the nurse to be Oshitari Mariko – Kenya’s mother.

“We knew the medicine wasn’t going to work forever.”

“Souya-san, Mariko-san, I made sure to always have the medicine ready as soon as you needed it for him, but we all knew that it was never meant to be a permanent solution.”

“I didn’t think the medicine would stop helping so soon though… Souya, what are we going to do?”

Shiraishi told himself that he had to stay strong. Every word the three adults said, it all contributed to the fear. Kenya had to keep in power of himself too. He couldn’t let his health fail. There were still so many things they had left that they could do.

There was no way…

“ _Come on, Shiraishi! **One**  race! No speed, no life! Let’s  **live**!”_

**Live** …

…Hadn’t Kenya always talked about  _living_ , hadn’t he? Always trying to do things quickly, seemingly trying to fit more into his schedule, almost arriving late to thing because of last minute leaving toward it. The only time he ever really “slowed down” was to enjoy time with friends.

_“You know, there’s so much I could do. Being loud, laughing with everyone – that honorable MC mention, oh people are going to remember Naniwa’s Speed Star from that.”_

**Being remembered**.

“ _Kenya-kun, we’re just in middle school.”_

_“Yeah, but life goes by fast. You’ve got to match that that speed!_ ”

“Dad, Kenya-kun’s not…”

“Kuranosuke, you came here with him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Kuranosuke-kun, we figured you did. We saw you sleeping in the waiting room when we arrived,” Souya explained, “We got a call from Koishikawa-kun that Kenya was going to the hospital.”

So, Koishikawa had remembered to call Kenya’s parents. Shiraishi had been so concerned for Kenya’s health that he had forgotten. Still, everything was beginning to add up to a conclusion that Shiraishi didn’t want to have. Kenya’s life book…  _did_  have pages ripped out. All those years they could have spent laughing together, Kenya tried to condense and fit as many good memories as he could into nearly fifteen years of life.

“…When did he start showing signs of sickness?” Shiraishi asked calmly.

Mariko and Souya exchanged glances, and Souya was the first to speak, “There were a few signs in his sicth grade year, but we gave him a check up, put him on medicine just in case, and everything seemed fine. Even still, we let him pick his middle school instead of sending him with his cousin, Yuushi, to Hyoutei Gakuen… because…”

Shiraishi listened, looking down at where his hand met Kenya’s.

“…because those initial signs had been worrisome, and we wanted Kenya to enjoy his middle school years. Shintenhouji was much closer as well.”

Shiraishi stopped listening. Things had probably gotten worse throughout his first year. And his father had been the one to provide the medicine. That medicine helped stabilize everything, but this illness ended up being an incurable variety, even for a family of doctors… that had been why Kenya pressed the speed idea even more so than on the day Shiraishi had met him.

Still, all the laughs, the races, Kenya had fit right in, and Shiraishi was glad to call Kenya his friend. Kenya had listened to Shiraishi talk about plants, the two of them had sleepovers often. There was the time Kenya tried to get the Shiraishi pet cat to race him by using a laser pointer, but just ended up with scratches, which Shiraishi immediately cleaned and bandaged.

Shiraishi’s best friend was the one laying on this hospital bed, his lungs being squeezed by an illness that was slowly rotting away his ability to keep running.

How was this going to affect the team? The future team? To lose such a happy influence, one who enjoyed tennis so much… he couldn’t leave them… no, there were still so many more phone call arguments Shiraishi knew he could hear. There were so many more races, watching a copy of Kenya’s pen spinning video wouldn’t be ideal, wouldn’t be the same.

But, illnesses don’t simply whimper back if you try to squirt them in the face and shout “No!”

There was not another word spoken. Shiraishi’s father eventually dismissed himself, and Mariko had to check on another patient. Souya place a blanket over Shiraishi’s shoulders and said that he’d be back in the morning, but Shiraishi was green-lit to stay.

The only noises left in the room were staggered sounds of Kenya’s breathing, and the uneven beeping of the heart monitor.

It only made every moment feel slower.

Shiraishi fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his eyes on Kenya, but sleep was necessary. Necessary for his own health. He decided to let his eyes close for just the moment, but it was morning by time his eyes opened again.

“Stayed… over… huh? Heh, next time, we’ll have a better sleep over at my place,” Kenya had said, awake with notice that Shiraishi was so as well, but his voice just didn’t sound the same.

“Kenya-kun…”

“Chitose stopped by… before he was rushed out by Dad, who told him to go to school. You should get going too.” He said this as fast as possible, coughing afterwards.

“Don’t speak too fast. That’s not helping you,” Shiraishi said. “I’ll be staying. It’ll be a good chance for Zaizen to assert what I’ve taught him about being a captain.”

Kenya laughed, “He’s going to have issues with Koharu and Yuuji then.”

There were four coughs after the laugh.

Yuuji… Yuuji… that was right. Kenya’s and Yuuji’s band would be broken up, there would be nothing to laugh about for a while, or no will to do so.

Souya came back in, putting a movie on.  _Speed_. Kenya’s favorite film. He handed Shiraishi a stack of CDs – probably all containing Kenya’s favorite songs, and bowed his head, exiting.

Seeing Kenya happy  _would_  put relief in.

Those scars from u-17 on his face were so much more obvious on his skin, which lacked the healthy color it had when… when the medicine was still working.

It was all so hard to accept.

Shiraishi watched the movie with Kenya, then proceeded to simply talk, making sure Kenya didn’t talk too much, about little things. Plans for the future, what more they could do. What more they could do when Kenya was discharged. These talks hurt Shiraishi. The seriousness and determination in Kenya’s brown eyes meant everything, but he could almost see the strength leaving him like steam.

Shiraishi went back to school the next day, answering questions calmly as he was asked.

_“Kura-rin~ Everything’s fine, right~?”_

_“Should be getting better.”_

_“Senpai, why’d you even bother leaving me in charge? It’s not like the team listens. Though, is something that wrong with Kenya-senpai? That’s not right… He survived that mountain after looking like a fool after all…”_

_“Kenya-kun can survive a lot.”_

_“Shiraishi! Kenya’s coming back, right?”_

_“…Hopefully, Kin-chan. I bet if you keep smiling, he will.”_

_“That sound cheesy, senpai.”_

Shiraishi couldn’t face complete truth. He didn’t want the others to needlessly worry, so he’d calmly assume his roll and assure people of everything being all right.

No matter if they might be truly developing to through-his-teeth lies.

Days past, and Shiraishi visited as much as he could. They would watch racing anime together, and Shiraishi would bring healthy, home-cooked meals over so Kenya had something other than hospital food to stomach down, the ease of eating made after switching Oxygen mask to tubes.

“Doctors know I’m not contagious, right?”

“It’s a precaution they told me to take, Kenya-kun.”

“And you’re listening? That’s just like you.”

Kenya’s cell phone vibrated.

“That’s probably Yuushi. Can’t argue with him now, or talk. Could you do it for me, like you said you would try at one point?”

His words were slower, weaker, but Shiraishi agreed, picking up the phone, answering. He talked… rather systematically in the small argument that Kenya coached him through, ending with Yuushi chuckling and saying something about how things were going to be too different.

Shiraishi nearly dropped the phone.

“Yuushi say something stupid? He tends to do that in arguments. Least, I think so,” he chuckled, softly, moving his hand over his chest, glancing to the heart monitor.

Slower. Slower.

“I lived my life pretty fast, huh? The amount of things I got done, I’m proud of that.”

“You’re not giving up, are you?”

“‘Course not. But, you know, we became friends fast too. That’s the best part. So… so  _quickly_  were we doing things best friends tended to do. I moved on the fast lane, and you were there to, you know, catch me when I tripped.”

“Which was often, in jokes too.”

“Shiraishi! You just try too hard on some of those jokes.”

They both grinned at each other, forcibly, on Shiraishi’s part. He thought that these weeks in the hospital would help Kenya. But it was simply a slight prolonging on Kenya’s lifeline. Like someone was trying to tape the shredded pages back together and into the book.

It wasn’t working entirely.

Kenya reached out and the two held hands firm, like it was to be a confirmation from Kenya of something. But, Kenya’s grip wasn’t like it used to be.

“Graduation is coming up, Kenya-kun.”

“Yeah, I know. Too bad I can’t zoom over there on that day and make a sudden comeback. I don’t think Dad would let me.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

“Heh, of course you wouldn’t. Hey, do you still have that eraser I let you borrow at that one lunch? That really big one?”

“That looks like that other small, odd-shaped one, yeah?”

“Keep it. Don’t give it back to my family through Shouta, or Dad. That’s yours. Those CDs too. Has Shouta talked about Speedy?”

“Yes, he’s doing fine. And I’m helping with caring for him too.”

“Great. Lil’ guys probably misses me though.”

This conversation, hopeful as it was, continued on. And soon, Shiraishi revealed a bouquet of flowers, explaining that Yukimura had helped arrange it.

Kenya thanked him, having him leave it bedside, before they turned on the TV to watch more anime.

His visits had to become less frequent. Graduation ceremonies were to be dealt with, thoughts of high school as well. Though, in primary terms, all that was truly on his mind was assuring the future of the tennis club in Zaizen and Tooyama as well as…

Kenya.

A week. Shiraishi had been so busy with everything, that it had been a week. He hurried over to the hospital after school – on the day before graduation – and signed in as a visitor.

“Shiraishi-san, wai-”

But Shiraishi didn’t listen to the receptionist. He moved in a hurry, to the room that was Kenya’s, opening the door. “Kenya-kun, it’s been a week, but my schedule got…!”

He stopped. Moving over to the bed, he sat in the seat he had been so familiar with. That he had sat in everyday. The CDs were still in their place. Shiraishi slowly put them into his bag, doing so with the DVDs as well.

There was no more beeping. The machine was off.

There was no more ridged breathing.

Nothing filled the air but silence.

No proper thanks could have been given. Shiraishi had wanted to thank Kenya.

Thank for the three years of laughter and friendship, some of the best times he had ever had.

Shiraishi couldn’t help but tear up. Losing something this important, that was the exact cause for something like tears. He couldn’t help it.

He reached over to the bed, picking up a small arrangement of flowers, varies colors of a specific variety.

Shiraishi shut his eyes a moment, before standing up, grabbing his bag with his free hand, and walking out.

_Sweet pea flowers_.

These flowers held many meanings.

But,  _good-bye_  was the exact meaning floating through Shiraishi’s head.

There was no note. Just this, and a nurse who then explained everything. Shiraishi nodded, solemnly, but his head heart. His eyes blurred as he tried to smile.

He could almost hear Kenya’s voice,  _“Sped up so fast, that I went and crashed. Well, you are going to slow down because of me, are you, Shiraishi?”_

“Kenya-kun,” Shiraishi whispered as he exited the hospital, pulling out his phone, “You never liked slowing down.”

Shiraishi knew that Kenya had been putting up a constant race for years. He never did slow down, but eventually, the opponent had caught up, used dirty tricks to pull Kenya from his race, disallowing him to continue.

Shiraishi dialed a number, and when the other end picked up, he said, “Coach, could you help me arrange a team meeting?”

Shiraishi knew his hospital visits, the trips to this hospital he had spent so much time in, were at a close. There was no need. The cursed illness, the dastardly thing that had caught Kenya, and pulled him away.

At least, Kenya was free from his opponent. He could finally speed through the air freely.

Shiraishi would be strong, collected as possible, outwardly. He would put on a smile, as hard as he could. He needed to be strong, for the team and for himself. That was what Kenya would expect.

“Thank you.”


End file.
